The Old Man
This is a story about an old man that I met and the journey that I took with him known to some as the epic journey of life. But he was not the only character in this story. Other main characters include a koala, a tea pot, the fly on the wall, Chocolate, and my BoY!. most would say that a story with so many odd characters would not work, and well you would be correct. But thats the interesting thing about life, it isn't a story, it's a mash up of many stories put together. This story is the realization that
each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own-- populated with their own ambitions, friends, routines, worries, and inherited craziness-- an epic story that continues invisibly around you like an anthill sprawling deep underground, with elaborate passageways to thousands of other lives that you'll never know existed, in which you might appear only once, as an extra sipping coffee in the background, as a blur of traffic passing on the highway, as a lighted way.
My first impression of the old man was one of extreme energy and excitement for a new experience. He was so excited that he wanted to keep others of another epic journey up on a work night, asking them questions left and right like "whats your favorite color?" "whats your favorite experience so far?" "how is the program?" "Oh man thats legit, was it hard to live here with your community?", despite the fact it was past the bed time of the old man.
The next week the old man was thrown into his element like a small child being thrown into a ball pit, except the old man was being thrown into a school with children. For him this was heaven and a time for him to shine and show his youthfulness once again.
A week past by and myself and the old man went to meet the rest of the characters of the story. This was not just any meetup though. It was an epic experience, filled with laughter, awkwardness, fear, judgement, and realization that these people would be changing our lives forever. Along with the main characters we came to meet a subset of characters in this story known as "The Others," they were with us but not. They went through the same sonder and yet it was completely different. My personal sonder would be touched by The Others over and over again each time we had an epic meetup.
The old man and I went on many adventures with koala, tea pot, the fly on the wall, chocolate and My boY!, but I came to realize the old man and I had a special relationship, realizing the fact that he was old and I was an introvert. We worked well together. We kept quiet most times and understood when talking was needed.
The old man and I had the opportunity to meet The Others once again when we had a conference near them with our work. I came to realize during the exciting time of learning about Vincentian charisms and the relationship between Vincent and Louise, the old man knew how to dance, and dance hard. The old man always seems to be so reserved when serving the children and dedicated.... but when you give the old man a pair of dancing shoes, wine, and a great dance floor (or any floor) he will show you that he isn't as old as he seems. He will show that he has love in his heart and a great passion to make people smile and love life. Oh and sometimes you need to keep a foot on the ground while sleeping to keep you grounded.
Unfortunately, many times the old man had to take what I would later learn to know as 'old man syndrome', or early night sleeps. During his long napping the koala, tea pot, fly on the wall, chocolate, My boY! and myself would enjoy an evening of conversation, dancing, shenanigans, and enjoyment. My boY! and I would often go in and check on the old man, which would usually result in "WHAT WHAT. oh my no no no no leave me alone." Another time though the old man decided to relive his younger years and he and MyboY! relived their college experience being RAs for the rest of the sleeping house.
Being the teacher that the old man was, he insisted that the fly on the wall needed learn to drive, which to me didn't make much sense since a fly has wings...... never the less, the old man and my BoY! taught her on the hills of San Francisco.
Stories upon stories can be told about the old man... but sometimes, he was napping. Like the time we went to the Cal Academy of Science or when we had a huge 4th of july celebration. Sometimes though, he would put his big ol' sunglasses on and take us somewhere in the car. Times like Napa, Cambell, Salsalito, The Warf, the beach, or even to see The Others. The first trip I went on with trip with the old man he apparently couldn't regulate his temperature and NEEDED to take his pants off, bad. So we stopped at a gas station, and he jumped out in youthfulness and ran to the bathroom to change into shorts. Silly old man.
Many things affected the old man out of his control, and he hated that. Most of the times it involved his supervisor, community pressure, or a cute girl to convince him. But most of the time, he went out to be social. I began to see a change in my life, a sense of Sonderness and I think the old man started to realize it too.
No matter the old man's sleeping schedule, we slowly began to respect it, because he was just another person in his own story, a story that focuses 100% on children. I mean Koala had a story of becoming a doctor, the fly on the wall wants to become a social worker, tea pot just wants to blow her whistle... or go back to college, chocolate wants to eat anything that looks tasty.. or also go back to college. My BoY! wants to help his family or live with me, that part is still being written.
We are all involved with our lives, our story, or perception of what life is. We view others through a small pin-hole of the interaction that we get with them. The old man has been alive for 23 years and I have only known him for 1 year of that. And as much as I love being attached to the old man's hip, I still did not know every little detail that he did this year. That's because his story isn't mine, nor is this story a true depiction of how he perceived this year. My story is mine and mine alone, but what I, and the rest of the world needs to realize is that
each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own-- populated with their own ambitions, friends, routines, worries, and inherited craziness-- an epic story that continues invisibly around you like an anthill sprawling deep underground, with elaborate passageways to thousands of other lives that you'll never know existed, in which you might appear only once, as an extra sipping coffee in the background, as a blur of traffic passing on the highway, as a lighted way.
